


Reluctant Travels

by Atalanta4444



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Road Trip, Bucky tries his best to remember, Depression, F/M, Steve Rogers is Exhausted, Suicide Attempt, Winter Soldier Road Trip, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:05:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalanta4444/pseuds/Atalanta4444
Summary: A take on the classic “Bucky Barnes escapes Hydra after TWS and stumbles upon you and promptly kidnaps you but you end up friends” with a twist.Reader has a lot of mental health issues that will be discussed at length, so major content warning and please proceed with caution if descriptions of suicidal ideation or self destructive behaviors affect you.
Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Original Female Character, James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Reluctant Travels

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written through Ao3 so I’m still getting my sea legs! Bear with me and enjoy!
> 
> CW: suicide attempt, canon typical violence

The Winter Soldier did not know, exactly, where he was. Although not knowing things, while increasingly frustrating, was becoming something he was used to.

Things he knew, in no particular order:

1\. He was in the Midwest, a small-ish but lively town.

2\. He was heading to Indiana. He didn’t know why, but the state lingered in the back of his foggy brain.

3\. He kills people. But he didn’t feel a particular inclination or desire to do so.

4\. There’s something missing. Steve, the golden retriever he pulled from the river, proved as much.

Other than that, much was unknown. But it was late, he was exhausted, hungry, and on foot, having ditched his vehicle about ten miles back. He could survive for a long time, but, damn, this was getting hard.

It was late, even for a college town, and quiet and dark. He could slip into one of these houses easily, eat something and drink something and sleep for just a minute before moving on, maybe taking a car with him. He was silent. No one would catch him, and if they did he could easily evade them.

Coming upon a residential street, he took his chances at the first house he saw, one just as dark as the others. With the stealth of an assassin he checked the door, mercifully unlocked. He entered, craving the warmth of rest and nourishment.

As he moved further into the little house, he realized that in his desperation he made a grave error. His fucked up brain was making him stupid. Back, in the far end of the house, a little glow of light emitted. And then he heard it, someone moving around.

What were they doing up anyway? Not knowing whether the resident had been alerted to his presence, he moved in to assess the situation. The back wing of the house held a bathroom and a bedroom, and he saw you cross between both several times and pause in the washroom.   
  


“You can do this. It’s over.”

Threatening and suspicious words if he ever heard them, he closed in and spied. He saw you, an amalgamation of various pills in hand, about to take them when you realized you didn’t have your water.

You moved to leave the bathroom, the Soldier hidden around the corner, just out of view.

Like he said. His fucked up brain is making him stupid.

As you rounded the corner to grab your water glass, pills in hand, you felt something pressed into your side, then an arm reach around and hold you by your neck.

”Don’t scream.”

”Please. Please don’t shoot me, or if you do, please make it quick. In the head. Something without a lot of blood, or pain-“ In your scramble the pills drop from your hand and scatter across the ground.

The man with the gun pushed you into your bedroom and lets go, but keeps the gun steady. “Suitcase.”

”What?”

”Find a suitcase. Now,” he gritted out.

Nodding, you scurried to your closet and pulled a suitcase out. He roughly grabbed it and dropped it on the bed, then pointed his gun at the closet.   
  
“Clothes. Supplies.”

Inside, your fear brimmed. Your worst nightmare alive, and on tonight of all nights. If you hadn’t stalled, hadn’t waited, would you be in this situation? ”Will you shoot me if I don’t?”

”There is no ‘don’t.’” 

Nodding, you went to your closet and haphazardly pulled out clothes, whatever you had clean. From your drawers you pulled bras, socks, underwear not wanting to go without.

”You need good shoes.”

In your closet you found a pair of hiking boots you never wore. 

“Pants.” Looking down at your dress and jacket, you realized what he meant. What was he trying to prepare you for?

Realizing he wasn’t going to look away, you pulled jeans on under your dress and then turned away to change into a sturdier shirt and jacket. His gun pointed at the boots and she pulled them on with thick socks.

Once you changed into something he finally deemed suitable for whatever he had planned, he zipped your bag, grabbed you by the arm, and pulled you out of your bedroom to the kitchen. He held his gun on you as he rifled through your cabinets, pulling what nonperishables he could and throwing them into a grocery bag left on the counter. 

”Car,” he demanded. “Do you have one?”

You nodded, hardly breathing.

”Get the keys. Slowly.” 

You nodded and moved carefully to the back door where your car keys sat on a hook.

The man slung your duffel bag over his shoulder, held his grocery bag in one hand, gun still in the other, and ushered you out the door to your car. 

“You drive. Don’t be stupid.”

Your bag and the food went into the back seat. He looked gargantuan in the passenger seat of your little hatchback. You took a deep breathe and put the key in the ignition.

”Please just kill me. Please-I’m begging-I don’t to go anywhere. Please don’t make me go anywhere.” He let you beg and sob for several moments, never stopping you, never responding. Once you had cried your fill, he responded.

”Start driving, please.”

And so you did.


End file.
